


Karen's Awesome Life

by meraculas



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack, F/M, Gen, Humor, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4351760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meraculas/pseuds/meraculas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or that time Karen Page swears a Hydra agent cursed her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing, shame, think of all that money.
> 
> Also, this is not exactly the crack I dreamed up that sort of inspired [Jemma's Perfect Life](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4292688/), but it is what happened when I decided to try writing it.

# Chapter 1

 

          In a few years I am going to look back on this day and laugh. Right now all I'm wondering is why I ever decided to get out of bed. It isn't even 9am yet and I'm already wearing the coffee I purchased not even a minute ago. It also hasn't helped that the porno I made - out of financial desperation - and was only released _today_ has gotten me recognized by three men. And one woman. That last one was a little odd if I'm completely honest, but there we are.

          So here I am, ready to take the bull by the horns and search - desperately - for another job, and my once nice business suit is covered in my coffee. I want to scream in anger at my life, instead I decide to scowl at the linoleum floor that I'm dripping onto. Only to have someone walk into me and spill their coffee. Great, now I'm wearing my coffee and someone else's.

          "Fuck!" The person - a man - curses behind me. "Would you mind moving miss?" He asks, in a strained attempt at politeness and with an all too sexy British accent.

          Still with a sour expression on my face I turn to face him. And stop to stare in awe, because wow, that man has awesome cheek bones and his skin is the colour of a mocha latte. That reminds me ... I shake myself out of it long enough to snap, "Not particularly." His expression sours as he gives me a quick once over, and I watch his brow furrow seeing the coffee down my front, when he knows he spilled his down my back.

          I scowl at him, throw my hands into the air, and storm out of the coffee shop. Returning to my apartment, I strip out of my ruined clothes, say to hell with it and climb under my bed covers grabbing my book. Why couldn't my job search end like Stephanie Plum's I ask myself two hours and a finished book later. Grumbling at my shitty day, I climb out of bed, dress in some sweats and head to the deli down the street for lunch. Maybe I'll stop at the grocery store on my way back because I refuse to eat two year old, open cheerios and that's all the food in my apartment. I can afford food now thanks to that most unfortunate foray I took into acting.

          I'm standing in line, waiting to place my order, when the guy in front on me turns around and walks into me ... sandwich first. Great I think as I look down to find my ratty sweatshirt covered in mustard, and is that prosciutto? The guy's apologizing, I'm cursing, half the shop is laughing, and I turn around to make a hasty exit and see the mocha skinned, British bastard from the coffee shop was standing behind me in line. Out of spite, I scowl at him and tell him to go fuck himself before pushing him aside and leaving. Screw lunch, screw groceries, I'm heading back to my apartment - which I really should give up and move to some place cheaper - and not leaving bed until tomorrow starts.

          Instead I emerge from the covers around five to the hollow, echoing, grumble of my very empty stomach. I should not have skipped lunch, or breakfast. Cursing life for whatever hell it was about to throw my way, I leave the apartment in my pajamas in search of food.

          I find myself at an Olive Garden - how the hell had the server managed to see the porno? - and prepared to place my order. Putting the menu down I look around to find the man from the coffee shop - and the deli - sitting two tables over. I curse silently and hide behind my menu. Having finished placing my order, I reluctantly hand my menu over to the waiter and sit patiently prepared to wait for my food. Only to have a tray of pasta land on me.

          The waiter looks at me horrified by what he had done. Half the restaurant turns to look at me, the guy - who I was starting to think was causing this - included. His dark eyes sparked in recognition and confusion. I took a deep, calming breath, and gave up. I exploded.

          "That's IT!" I yell standing up, pasta dripping down from my head to the floor. "I give up! I survived the Hulk destroying my apartment. I survived fricking _ALIENS_ destroying my place of business. But food - _FOOD!_ \- is determined to destroy me." I glared up at the ceiling, "I give up, do you hear me? I - Karen Page - quit! If anyone needs me, I'll be throwing myself off a bridge. Good-damn-bye."

          With my bitching complete I stormed out of the restaurant - not paying - and returned to my apartment. I wasn't going to leave ever again. At least for the rest of today. Tomorrow, maybe, I didn't really want to die so I was going to need to leave for food.

          I stepped out of the shower - again - and picked up the newspaper sitting on my table. Naked, I began searching the classifieds for work and a new apartment, because I was really not going to be able to afford to keep my nice Manhattan apartment. I was twenty minutes into my angry searching when my stomach rumbled and I said to hell with it. I grabbed the stall box of cheerios and went back to my search.

          I woke up with my face stuck to the crushed, empty box of cheerios - great now I had absolutely no food anywhere in my apartment - a crick in my neck and a plan in mind. I showered - hopefully for the only time today - dressed in a white cotton shirt and frilly brown skirt, leftover from my bohemian college days, and printed my resume along with a quickly typed cover letter. Not wishing a repeat of yesterday, I skipped breakfast and headed for the transit way to take me into Hell's Kitchen and Union Allied Construction. I was going to get a job.

          Three hours later I walked away with a time and date for an interview tomorrow. Smiling I stopped in the lobby to pick up a local newspaper - the area wasn't the best off so apartments had to be cheap, right? - and walked right into someone. Strong hands reached out to steady me and I looked up to apologize. Instead I swore.

          "You son of a bitch, you planned everything yesterday didn't you? You cursed me, or something, I know it!" I bitched at the bane of my existence. "Well I refuse to let you take this away from me, so fuck off!"

          I stayed just long enough to see his brow furrow before I turned and left. Unfortunately the bastard laid another curse and I walked into the door as I opened it. The voice of the man I would hopefully call boss said behind me, "Is everything alright, Mr Bakshi?"

          I finally managed to make it out of the building as my hated enemy responded in his cultured British tone, "Yes, quite so, shall we?"

          I imagined punching him all the way back to my apartment. It helped a little.


	2. Chapter Two

# Chapter 2

 

          Two weeks after I got my job as secretary for the chief accountant at Union Allied Construction, I had finally found an apartment in Hell's Kitchen. It took an ungodly three days to move, partially because I had to work through all it, and because I couldn't afford to pay for a moving service. Instead I was stuck with flipping public transport to move all my worldly possessions. Silver lining, I'd sold over half my belongings before doing the porno.

          Finally moved into my apartment, I looked around and decided that my next paycheck was going into furniture. A mattress on the floor, a folding lawn chair, and TV table, were not going to cut it. Falling onto my mattress I turned the TV - sitting on the floor so I couldn't actually see anything - to the morning news as I prepared for another day of work. With a final sigh at my dismally furnished apartment, I turned everything off, grabbed my morning coffee from the counter, and left for work.

          It was a quiet day, the phone had only rung twice, and I was staring at my computer playing - and losing - solitaire. Grumbling about still not having found the damn ace of diamonds and really needing it - why will the thing not tell me it's hopeless when it is clearly hopeless? - the outer door to the office opened. I didn't bother to look up, the only people that regularly visited my boss were co-workers and they all just went straight in, so I kept grumbling at the futility of virtual solitaire - impossible to cheat at.

          Someone cleared their throat above me and I looked up, sheepishly through my eyelashes. "Fuck." I bit out seeing the bastard. That's what I have taken to calling him, because even though I haven't seen him since the cursed day from hell, he still pops into my mind when I'm feeling down. I imagine punching him to feel better. It works sometimes.

          He raises one of his too sexy eyebrows - why are the hottest guys either evil, gay, or dead? - and continues to look down on me. Literally, he's standing and tall, and I'm sitting. Staring up at him like a fricking idiot.

          I close my eyes and try to center myself before looking up at him with a bright smile, smoothing my strawberry-blonde hair back, "Hello, how can I help you today?"

          He continued to look down on me, now with this half amused smirk. I again imagined punching him. "I have a meeting with Mr Clintock."

          Okay, that stumped me. I know for a fact my boss didn't have any meetings scheduled for today. He'd come in singing praises about that fact. I minimized the cursed game, brought up Mr Clintock's schedule, and yup, no meeting. I had two options, annoy the boss and ask him about this, or risk having another curse placed on me by the bastard. God I hope he can't read people's minds.

          I chose the lesser to two evils, "Let me just inform Mr Clintock you're here, Mr-"

          "Bakshi." Right, I knew that, I heard Mr Clintock call him that the day after he laid the curse on me.

          "Of course, just a moment." I rose from my desk, knocked on the bosses door and stepped inside. "Mr Clintock?" I waited for him to look up from whatever he was working on, "A Mr Bakshi is here to see you, he said you had an appointment-"

          I watched the boss's eye spark in recognition and his face pale slightly. Interesting, had the bastard laid a curse on him once too? It lasted a second and then he asked that I show his guest in. I nodded, exited, and did as instructed.

          Half an hour later I was still pointlessly clicking through the useless deck at the top of my screen watching the cards I didn't need - but had memorized - flash by, and the bastard stepped out. He stopped at my desk, looked over my screen, and shook his head.

          "No. No, you do not get to lay another damn curse on me!" I half whispered - just imagine the horror of the boss hearing me yell at whoever the hell this Bakshi guy was - half hissed at him.

          "Start a new game Miss Page." He intoned something bordering on amusement in his tone. I scowled. "I'll also need you to schedule an appointment with Mr Clintock next week, same day, same time."

          I continued to scowl but marked the appointment down. Looking back up at the bastard, I bit as sweetly as I could, "Is there anything else I can do for you Mr Bakshi?"

          "Try not to blame others for your own faults." He remarked dryly and left. I sat sputtering after him. After a few minutes I returned to my futile game - I refused to quit damn it - and realized five minutes later after undoing through everything that he somehow knew my name.

          I suddenly was very terrified of the man.

          He showed up the following week for his meeting as scheduled. Half an hour after it started he walked out requesting I mark another meeting for the following week, same time. I glared after him, I'd been on the phone and he disconnected the call rather than wait. I cursed his existence after he left and imagined punching him for the rest of the day. Again, it helped, but only a little.

          Like clockwork it went on for two months until one day he arrived with a coffee in hand. Returning to my desk after showing the bastard in - he insisted upon it - I found the coffee sitting there. I stared at it in confusion for a few minutes and then chose glaring for a time.

          I hadn't realized the allotted half hour was up until a shadow passed over my desk distracting me from glaring at the paper coffee cup. I looked up and found the bastard staring down at me, brow arched and amusement in his eyes. I glared at him. "Same time next week?" I asked already moving to mark the appointment down.

          "That was for you." He responded simply. I froze. Slowly I turned to face him. "For whatever you think I did to you that day, though I did nothing."

          His explanation snapped me out of shock and into confused outrage. "You put a curse on me!"

          He shook his head. "You were already wearing coffee when I met you."

          I turned to my default setting when he was around and glared. He was right after all. "Is it poisoned?" I asked suspiciously after a few seconds of silence. I wouldn't put it past him to have tried to lower my defenses only to poison me. He was a bastard.

          He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, not poisoned. You really are a trusting sort aren't you?" Not giving me time to answer, he left. I continued to glare at his retreating form.

          In the end I threw the coffee out. Untouched.


	3. Chapter Three

# Chapter 3

 

          A month after the coffee cup incident I found myself in a bar. It was an upscale thing that my budget would not have normally allowed, but I was bored and in a bad mood. Time to pamper and splurge. A bottle of bourbon sat in front of me along with a glass, the bottle was down to its last drops and the ice in the glass had melted an hour ago. I still felt like crap.

          Groaning, my head slipped out of my hands to land - hard - on the counter. I had been working for Union Allied for nearly four months now, it was a decent paying job, I had an apartment I could afford, I had food in my fridge - not that the fridge always worked - and clothes in my closet. The plan I had made several months ago to buy furniture had been way laid when I got my next paycheck to food and clothes instead. I'd had maybe five nice outfits I could wear, and the boss had noticed. It had taken a month and a half of paychecks to build a suitable wardrobe, though I had also purchased a three dollar yard sale TV table for my television during that time.

          After my wardrobe was built up further, I finally got around to furniture. I had a dresser and sofa thanks to a neighbour that died - yeah, free! - but other furniture was looking bleak. So far it was all yard sale stuff because actual furniture was very expensive, but I had bought - from a store - a proper bed and bookcase. The bookcase mostly held knick-knacks since most of my books were on my ereader, but it worked. Unfortunately I was still stuck with the TV table and lawn chair as my dining set. Fucking dismal. Hence the heavy drinking.

          It also didn't help that the bastard was still a regular weekly occurrence. I was seriously considering calling in sick next week so that I could avoid him. Since the coffee cup incident he'd been trying to make conversation with me. It was creepy.

          With a groan, I lifted my head from the counter just enough to pour the last of the bourbon into my glass. With a sigh I down it in one go, then I contemplated the merits of crying. Instead I audibly face planted back onto the bar top. Then I began crying.

          I looked up after a few minutes when I heard something land on the bar next to my elbow. I tried to whip the tears and snot - crap, why does that always happen when I cry? - from my face. The bartender nodded when I asked if the drink was for me. Without waiting for him to change his mind, I drank the whole thing. Ah, bourbon. Drink finished, I returned to stare at the sticky bar top, only to have another glass appear at my elbow. I looked back at the bartender who nodded towards a man behind me. Great, just what I needed to make a bad day even worse, some guy trying to hit on me. Not one to turn down free bourbon though, I took the drink and turned to face the guy.

          "Son of a bitch."

          So now the reason I was drinking was offering to buy me my drinks. It was nice, but no way in hell was I going to put up with it. With a forced attempt - that was hopelessly failing - to hide my scowl I joined the bastard at his table.

          "Are you trying to drug me?" I asked falling onto the empty chair.

          Bastard laughed, his constant smirk - that always had this amused turn to it - in place. "You really don't trust me, do you?" He asked his voice crisp despite the half empty glass of what looked suspiciously like whiskey in front of him. Of course, he seemed like the kind of guy that let nothing get the better of him, probably why the bastard was still in his perfect, unwrinkled suit even though it was after 10pm.

          I tried to glare at him but somehow found myself laughing instead. Maybe that full bottle of bourbon was a bad idea when you intended to give a guy shit. Of course I had not been planning to rip into the bastard when I entered the bar.

          "You're evil." I finally manage through my laughter. He shakes his head at me and suddenly I find myself doubled over, pounding on the table top while trying to catch my breath. I hear him tell someone that I'm drunk right around the time I finally get some air into my lungs, unfortunately that sets me off again. Because really, "No shit!" I don't realize I've spoken until he's shaking his head at me again. There I go again.

          When I finally wake up it's in a too bright room. My head is pounding, my tongue feels like sand paper, and my eyes are fuzzy. I roll over and nearly fall off a bed. Huh, when did I get into a bed? The last thing I remember is crying at some upscale bar. Crap.

          I try and push myself up, and nope, not happening. Instead I continue to stare at the unfamiliar beige carpet. I lay on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room for about all of a minute before the fact that I'm on my stomach really registers. It finally does two seconds before I empty it on the thick carpet next to the bed.

          Too sore and too tired for much else, I roll over and think that at least I don't have to try and get that mess out. No instead I just have to get me out of where ever the hell I am. Where am I? I finally manage to get myself to sit up and am elated to find myself fully clothed, all though that grey suit jacket does not look like something I own. In fact it looks like a man's.

          "Shit fucking crap!" I shout suddenly remembering just a little bit more from last night. Like seeing the bastard in the bar wearing this jacket. I moan and through a pillow over my eyes at the pain the memory and my angry exclamation cause.

          I'm trying to shed the blazer without moving the pillow or my body when I hear a door open. Free of the garment I throw it in the direction I remember seeing the door. It takes a few minutes after that to finally remove the pillow. "Did you kidnap me? I knew you were the sort for kidnapping! Especially after that damn curse." I complain - but thankfully at a hangover appropriate level - in the bastard's direction from where he stands in the doorway watching me.

          He continues to regard me for a moment, "I did not kidnap you or place any form of curse on you."

          I finally manage to glare at him. Damn, that took longer than normal. "Yeah, then where am I?"

          He raises one perfect eyebrow. "You're apartment."

          I freeze and look slowly around the room. "Crap." He was right and that means "that's my carpet." Crap, I have to try and clean my puke out of it. "My life sucks! Ooh, too loud." I try and rub the pain from my head by messaging my temples. Not working. "I need Advil." I managed to stand "and to pee."

          I remained standing stupidly for a minute trying to remember where the damn bathroom was. Finally remembering, I headed in that direction and opened the door, only to have a pair of strong hands take hold of my shoulders and turn me around. "That's the closet." The bastard told me sounding amused. He continues to steer me towards the bathroom and damn it, I let him.

          Finished doing my business, and having found some Advil, I emerged to find him waiting for me. I glared at him, "How did you know where my apartment was?" Because that was way too creepy now that I realized that he must have been the one to get me here.

          "You told me." I winced. "Right around when you proposition me." I cursed.

          "Okay you can stop now." I grumbled holding a hand up. I made my way to the kitchen, opened the fridge, found it not working, closed it, kicked it a few times, and opened it again. There, working again, no problem. Unfortunately there wasn't any food in it. Sighing I closed the door and fell against it, sliding to the floor. I looked up and found the bastard still watching me. "Please say ate all my food."

          He shook his head. "I'll buy you breakfast."

          I squinted up at him in confusion. "Why?" I asked slowly not sure what his game was.

          He smiled and offered his hand, "Perhaps I find you intriguing Miss Page."

          "I still think you're evil, Bastard." He closed his eyes and sighed, "But I'm broke, I have no food, and I figure you owe me because of that curse."

          "My name is not 'Bastard.' It's Sunil Bakshi." He informed me after pulling me to my feet. I glared at him. "You mentioned it a few times last night." I glared and cursed. "Apparently you frequently imagine punching me as well."

          I scowled and imagined punching him. That didn't work. I punched him for real instead. "That worked."


	4. Chapter Four

# Chapter 4

 

          A month after the unfortunate bar incident found me scowling at my nicely furnished apartment. Somehow that breakfast the bastard offered to buy me turned out to be our first date. We've been out four times since then though I don't actually remember agreeing to any of these dates. I'm not complaining of course, the last boyfriend I'd had ended up being some deranged lunatic that followed the preaching's of some recently revealed - thank you Mr Stark - terrorist called the Mandarin. Jackson was always a little weird.

          Either way, somehow I am now dating the bastard - which has not stopped me from glaring, or cursing, or name calling, or punching - and I can't say how it happened. I also don't know what gave him the idea he could completely furnish my apartment. Not that I don't appreciate it, but a discussion would have been nice Sunil.

          Grumbling at my working fridge, I begin to make breakfast as I hear the shower shut off in the bathroom. My back is turned and I'm bitching at the stove trying to figure out how you work that damn timer on it when the bastard laughs behind me. I turn around, scowling, to find him dressed in residual water droplets and a low hanging towel. Now that is perfection.

          I wave the spatula at him as I say "This isn't funny, Bastard, and I still don't know how you found a key to this place." I turn back to the stove and curse, and then I kick it. "Why did you even replace the stove? It worked just fine."

          "No it didn't." He informed me coolly as he hugged me from behind and kissed my temple. "And you gave me a key." I turned in his arms and glared. "Very well, the landlord did." I punched him. Real punching is so much more satisfying the imaginary punching. "You are a very hostile girlfriend."

          "Door's over there, you are welcome to leave." I told him pointing the spatula in the appropriate direction. He shook his head, kissed me, and pushed a button behind me on the stove.

          "Why are you heating the waffles in the oven anyways?" He asked with the timer set for five minutes.

          I scowled and pushed him away. Great, now I had to change into something dry. "Because they're too big for the toaster."

          He shook his head, "And why not make your own. You have a waffle maker now."

          "Because this is easier and simpler, and I always burn them and they don't taste right." I told him as I walked him backward towards the bedroom. Because yeah, in a month not only did I get a new boyfriend but also a roommate. And like the boyfriend, I don't know how the roommate happened either. The bastard was a little too confusing for my liking. But the things he could do with his tongue were pure heaven. "Get dressed, food while be heated soon." With a customary glare in his direction I closed the bedroom door behind me and left him to dress.

          When he arrived that day for his regular two o'clock appointment he dropped a coffee cup on my desk before I showed him in. I scowled at him when he gave it to me and glared at the beverage for good measure. Just because the sex was amazing and he liked spoiling me with food and furniture and proper clothes did not mean I trusted him. Or forgave him for the curse and trying to poison me that time or drugging me at the bar.

          When the appointment ended after a half hour - as always - he exited and asked for the next appointment to be booked. He shook his head seeing the coffee still sitting there untouched. "Are you serious?"

          "You poisoned it once before."

          Again he shook his head at me, "No I did not. Here." He added and picked the coffee up, took a long drink from the cooled liquid, and place it back on my desk. "Not poisoned."

          "You could have an antidote."

          He sighed and rolled his eyes at me. "Fine, it is poisoned and I have an antidote in my pocket."

          "Ha, you admit it, I knew it!" I said triumphantly. And well aware that he was teasing me. "Now admit you placed that curse and drugged me at the bar."

          "I did not drug you, you simply drank too much of that awful alcohol." He informed me calmly, "And I do not know what curse you are talking about."

          "Bourbon is the best damn drink there is, and fine maybe I had a little too much. I admit defeat." I sighed but continued to glare at him, "But you know damn well what curse I'm talking about."

          He leveled a pointed stare at me - because I've learned the bastard does not glare, scowl yes but only when trouble would be dealt out - "I'll be home late tonight." He informed me before heading to the bank of elevators. I sat imitating a gaping fish for a few minutes.

          He really thinks he lived with me! He'd always called the place my apartment even though after date number two he'd moved a week's worth of clothes in. Date three added a month's worth. Date four saw me with new furniture. To be fair, since date five was last night I was a little scared what I'd return home to this time. But now it was home, as if he actually expected to live there full time. Oh, we were talking about this when he shows up.

          I glare at the coffee, scowl, curse, and then pick it up and take a hesitant sip. Ah, café mocha with, yup, a shot of vodka. God damn it, the bastard is also saint. I reconsider changing the locks on the apartment before he returns.

          He calls around five to say he has to go out of town for the night but will hopefully be back tomorrow. I scowl at the phone through the conversation, bitch at him for thinking he lives with me, and then thank him for the coffee. Call finished I place an order to a local tai place to have them deliver to my building, pack up my stuff and head for home. I also stop at KFC and pick up a bucket of chicken thighs along the way. I get home just in time to meet the delivery guy and pay for the food. I drop it all on the counter and decide dinner also needs bourbon. I make a quick run to the liquor store.

          I wake up around six in the morning with a hangover, a chicken thigh somehow _in_ my pajama bottoms stuck to my thigh, and a plate of takeout tai acting as my pillow. I stay conscious just long enough to call in sick, then I fall back asleep on the tai food, chicken thigh still glued to my own.

          When next I wake up my head feels a little better, the chicken thigh hasn't moved, and I have tai knotted in my hair. I also have a shadow hanging over the floor. Huh, when did I end up on the floor? I look up, picking a noodle out of my hair and stick it in my mouth. "You don't look so good." I tell the bastard, and it's true. He looks exhausted and there's a dark stain of something on his cheek.

          He snorts, picks up the empty bourbon bottle and sighs, "From you, I'm not sure I should listen." He joins me on the floor and picks a piece of red pepper and noodle from my hair.

          I glare at him. "What happened to you?" I eventually ask after a few minutes of silence as I lean against him.

          He turns a tired look my way, "Things did not go as planned." Well that's real informative. Especially since I had absolutely no clue what he did for a living. Except meet with my boss once a week for a half hour these past four months. And apparently he made a lot of money and always wore suits, but that wasn't very helpful.

          I snorted at his response, "Is that so? What happened? You do know I have no idea what you do right?"

          He gave me a kiss and grimaced, "How much did you drink last night?" I glared at him, then I punched him. "I work for a large organization and we were hoping to make an acquisition, it did not go as planned."

          "You don't use contractions when you're being serious or talking about work." I told him stupidly, maybe I hadn't finished healing from those two bottles of bourbon I drank last night. "Not that you talk about work."

          "I was not aware."

          My eyes go comically wide - at least I imagine so - and I point at him, "Ha, you did it again." He shakes his head at me gives me a kiss. "So, I think I called in sick earlier. Want to relax in bed?"

          He smiles, stands, and offers me his hand. I take it and he pulls me up. It's at that moment that the chicken thigh unglues itself from my leg and falls out of my bottoms. Sunil pointedly looks at the chicken and all I can manage in explanation is "Whoops." He sighs, I punch him, then I pick up the chicken and take a bit.

          This time he laughs. Half way through the thigh, he pulls the hand holding it away from my mouth and takes a bit for himself. Then the bastard shrugs. Damn him, this is prime KFC original recipe chicken and he shrugs, there is something seriously wrong with him.

          I'm about to tell him that very thing when he floors me further. "Marry me." I stand there blinking stupidly for maybe two minutes, mouth hanging open, chicken limp in my hand, and a half chewed mouthful exposed to the world.

          Eventually I swallow and say the only thing to come to mind. "God damn fucking shit crap." He raised a single eyebrow at my response. "Yeah fine, why not. I'd hate for you to put another curse on me anyways Bastard. And you'd do it too."

          He smiles, kisses me, and says against my lips "I have no idea what you are talking about." I glare at him in hatred and wonder how long he intends to hold that over me.

          I glare in indignant rage then I punch him for good measure. Yup, still works.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks. In my head Karen's experience with Bakshi helped make her who she is in the show (needing to expose the corruption).

# Chapter 5

 

          I'm beginning to think the bastard might actually have a heart. We've been engaged maybe a month and a half and despite his usual shit, he's actually been really sweet. I finally decided that, okay, maybe he's not trying to poison me through coffee. But only because he keeps bringing it for me when he has a meeting, and we are now engaged, so why would he try and kill me?

          Things with him have been moving fast, so I immediately throw myself into wedding planning. After all, date five was a proposal, what was date six going to be? It ended up being that he paid off my student loan debt. I really wished I had money. I was still technically living paycheck to paycheck, but now thanks to the bastard - I should really stop calling my fiancée that - I got to keep those paychecks for myself.

          He tells me one day after his meeting with Mr Clintock that he's going to be heading out of town for a day or two. I smile and tell him to come home safe. I also remind him how he found me last time he left. He shudders and begs me not to buy bourbon - the bathtub still smells of it - and reminds me that string cheese is not an appropriate Halloween decoration. I scowl and tell him Halloween has passed and he should never have told me he was going to Miami with a female colleague.

          A week passes and I don't hear anything from him. He also misses his appointment. An appointment he has kept religiously despite admitting he only scheduled more than the three he needed because he wanted to see me. He once even flew back from a meeting in Portland just to make a meeting and then flew back out.

          I began to worry, especially since he hasn't been answering his phone. He always answered his phone. Worried out of my mind, I kept calling him - even though a part of me knew it was pointless - hoping that eventually he would pick up. He never did.

          I'm sitting at my desk staring at one of the weirdest emails of my life - the pension fund is not supposed to be that high, this has to be some sort of input error - when my cell phone rings. Without really thinking, and still completely confused by this email, I answer.

          "Karen, I need you to do something for me-" My mind comes to a shrieking halt. I can smell rubber burning it happened so fast. The bastard is calling me. He's alive. I'm frozen in shock and relief that I don't hear a single word he says.

          "Where are you?" I ask clearly cutting him off from whatever he was saying because I can hear him sigh through the rough connection.

          "It is difficult to explain." He answered slowly. He was hiding something from me. "But for the moment I am safe." I breathe a sigh of relief, because that was honestly going to be my next question. "I have been detained as of late but hopefully I can remedy a matter of some importance, then I will return home."

          "Okay, how long will that take, because I've been sitting on my hands and ass for the past month without a word or whisper from you, Bastard, and going crazy out of my mind."

          "I am sorry. I do not know how long I will be, but hopefully this will not take much time. I need to go, be careful." He says before hanging up. I stare stupidly at my phone for a few minutes. What the honest fuck?

          I'm pulled out of my musings when Mr Clintock returns from lunch and asks if I'm alright. I guess that phone call shook up more than just my nerves. I assure him I'm fine, he smiles, and we both go back to work. I continue staring at my computer screen, contemplating this most puzzling email when I decide to ask Mr Clintock about it.

          He brushes it off, so I go back to worrying about my crazy fiancée. What the hell has he gotten himself into. I don't realize how much time has passed until the little chime on my computer telling me to head home goes off. I jump out of my trance, and set about closing things down. But first I do what Sunil instructed on the phone - because sitting there some of what he was saying started to register - and backup everything on my pc to an external drive. When I get home, I do the same to every computer there as well.

          Two days later, I'm sitting at home in my pajamas watching Inspector Gadget on Teletoons Retro when someone knocks on the door. Not thinking much of it, I get up and answer, pulling one of Sunil's shirts on over my threadbare, hole filled, tank top. And am incredibly glad I did when I have the door open revealing a stern faced army guy. General, actually, Brigadier General Talbot to be precise.

          He helps me into my apartment and lowers me into a kitchen chair after my knees give out hearing him explain how Sunil is in custody as a traitor to the United States government. He's brandishing words like murder, impersonation, torture, brainwashing, Hydra, and all sorts of other things and my brain isn't really working.

          He asks me if my fiancée has anything stored here. It takes him a few attempts to get me to understand the question. I tell him that there's only clothes. He's getting up to leave when he asks if there's anything he can do for me. I just continue to stare at him in numb shock.

          "I knew he was evil." I manage to whisper with a slight laugh.

          General Talbot smiles, "He said you might say something like that." I look up at him confused, "He kept you very quiet Miss Page. There was nothing in any file on him about you. It surprised a lot of people to learn he had you hidden away. He asked that we deliver the news in person, I refused to allow it until he mentioned that you two are engaged. He also asked me to say that there was no curse. Do you know what that's about?"

          I smiled, I don't know why. "It's an inside joke. I meet him on a really bad day, and he just kept popping up when things went wrong. I always said he cursed me." I stopped to wipe some tears from my face - and snot, damn it - the memory of the day from hell surfacing actually pleasant for once. I looked up at the General, "What's going to happen to him?"

          "He'll be tried, likely found guilty. He hasn't denied anything and the proof is overwhelmingly against him."

          "He's not a US citizen, he's British. Can you do that?" I asked, even though a part of brain immediately supplied that they could.

          Talbot nodded, "We can, he's still being questioned. Given your relationship, and that there's nothing to suggest you are involved in Hydra, I can make arrangements for you to visit him."

          I shake my head, "No, thank you. Actually, if you could give him this." I say removing the ring from my finger that we picked out together. "Tell him I'm sorry, but something tells me he'd understand."

          Talbot takes the ring and leaves. I sit alone in my apartment for hours. I call in sick the next day and the day after that. When I finally return to work everyone is giving me sympathetic looks, I guess word got out about my traitor fiancée. Mr Clintock is very understanding, and then he sees my bare finger. Something in his eyes change, they almost become hard. An hour later, IT is scrubbing my computer. I'm not sure what's happening. Do they think Sunil put Hydra intel on it? I don't know.

          It's about a week before I remember the external drive at home. I consider digging out the card General Talbot left with his number to tell him about it, when I decide the take a look through instead. There's some pretty hairy stuff in among his files, that's for damn sure. Out of curiosity I look through all my work stuff, why would Union Allied wipe my computer?

          There sits the email with the strange pension fund. I sit staring at it for maybe an hour. Then I decide to take a closer look at some other files. Now that is strange. Eventually I grab an ordinary thumb drive and copy all the interesting bits onto it.

          I'm still not sure what to do about the rest of the stuff. I know I should hand it over to Talbot but something is holding me back. Sunil was protecting me, I get that, Talbot said no one knew about me until Sunil himself mentioned me and it took them by surprise. Everyone knows from the history books that Hydra are dirty bastards, and that's been proven true again since the world learned they were still around.

          I look to the little black box with the blinking light and make up my mind. Grabbing my purse, I head to the nearest electronic store and purchase a new external drive. Back at my apartment, I make a copy of all of Sunil's files and then call General Talbot. Before he arrives, I hide the thumb drive in the vent in the bathroom and the original external drive behind the fridge - which is a bitch and a half to pull out - and try to act normal. Or as normal a someone can be when they are about to hand the government information that can further condemn a man.

          The meeting is quick, I hand the drive over saying I completely forgot about it. He says he understands, I was in shock. So on and so forth. Before he leaves though, he turns and tells me that Sunil understood. I smile and thank him.

          Three weeks later I wake up in my apartment covered in blood next to Daniel Fisher's dead body. Things after that are a bit of a blur because of the frame up by my former employers at Union Allied and the sudden appearance of two lawyers, and getting a job are their secretary.

          It's when I'm getting shitfaced drunk with Foggy that a few things start clicking into place. We've just left Matt's - he refuses to join our fun - and we are now sitting on a bench near what, I think, is supposed to be a park.

          "My fiancée being Hydra was keeping Union Allied from doing something to me sooner." I blurt out, because shit, Sunil was protecting me from enemies I didn't even have yet.

          "You're engaged?" Foggy asks incredulous, "To Hydra?"

          I turn to look at him stupidly, "Sort of, I'm not sure, it's complicated." I stop trying to explain to figure t out myself. "When the government came to tell they were holding him as a traitor I asked them give the ring to him. But he understood why I was doing it. Does that mean we've broken up?"

          Foggy nods then stops, his brow creasing, "So you're ex-fiancée is in federal custody?"

          "No, Hydra broken him out yesterday." I answered, "General Talbot called to tell me. Said that if I see him I need to call right away."

          "Wow, that's, wow." Foggy says surprised. We sit in silence for a few minutes then he turns to me and says, "So you are framed for murder and expose the big Union Allied corruption thing, and all the while you had no idea the guy you were going to marry was Hydra?"

          "Oh no, I knew he was Hydra." I answered with honest seriousness. The situation called for it. "He just didn't seem like a threat to me and it didn't seem like he was doing anything of consequence. I just let him be. I've learned to never do that again."

          "You knew he was Hydra but you were going to marry him anyways. Then he gets arrested for being Hydra and you say that's it?"

          I shrug, "Yeah, I guess so." We sit in silence for a little bit longer, "When we met he put a curse on me. And then he tried to poison me at work with coffee. Later he tried to drug my bourbon. Then he kidnapped me." I stopped to laugh. "He took over my apartment and bought me all my furniture, you know. I still don't even know how we started dating." I pause in wonder, "Huh, my relationship with him ended like it started. Without me realizing." I burst out laughing and somewhere along the way I start crying. When I finally stop I'm curled against Foggy.

          We sit silently for some time before he asks, "How did you know he was Hydra?"

          I look up at him, I had been about to fall asleep. I shrug, "He talks in his sleep."

          Foggy laughs, "Big bad Hydra got caught because he talked in his sleep? Wow!" I grimace at him. That wasn't why Sunil was caught. I don't know how or why it happened, but I know that isn't it.

          Not sure how I feel about my relationship with Sunil - because when I realized I lost him he stopped being the bastard - I did the only thing I could think of. I imagined punching him. For the first time, it didn't help.


End file.
